


Denied

by Skylark42



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bets & Wagers, Crack, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24793918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark42/pseuds/Skylark42
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier make a bet to see who can go longer without sex.  Geralt thinks his victory is assured, but Jaskier plays dirty.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 230





	1. The Wager

**Author's Note:**

> The fic that will answer the question no one asked, who is the bigger thot, Jaskier or Geralt?

The arrow whizzed by Jaskier's shoulder, just barely missing him thanks to Geralt's quick reflexes. They were currently on the run from the local baron's men, after the local baron had caught Jaskier under the skirts of his wife. Jaskier regretted nothing, surely the lovely lady was worth a few slings and arrows, such was her beauty and presence.

Geralt, naturally, did not agree.

“All this because you can't go more than two days without getting your dick wet,” Geralt growled, dragging him further through the shrubbery. They were losing the last of the baron's men.

“This coming from the man that spent the last of our coin at a brothel,” Jaskier said, “When I'm here and willing for free.”

Geralt shot him a dark look. “I can pay the whores to shut up.”

Jaskier molded his face into a wounded look that Geralt knew damn well was all pretend. “That stings, Geralt, truly. Besides, I don't hear you asking me for silence when I'm moaning around your-”

“You could have been killed, Jaskier,” Geralt interrupts angrily.

Jaskier frowned, Geralt had on his serious voice. He needed to shift the subject, fast. “You're not jealous are you?”

It worried him sometimes; but their arrangement was one that suited them both. They had each other and both were free to take other lovers as they so pleased. What went unspoken was that those other lovers might share their bed, but never their heart. Except for Yennefer, but there were special circumstances there, magic wishes and unbreakable connections. It only made Jaskier a little jealous these days.

“Jealous?” Geralt repeated flatly.

“If you'd rather I not share my bed with others you need only ask, Geralt,” Jaskier said, hoping to steer the conversation away from the oncoming lecture he had no doubt was in store.

“Fine. Then stop.”

Oh my, that was not where Jaskier saw that going. He expected Geralt to deny any jealousy, him to insist that Geralt was jealous and wasn't he just adorable (he wasn't on either counts) and then they would bicker and Jaskier would placate Geralt by promising to make sure his next lover wasn't married. They would both recognize it for the lie it was, but Jaskier would end the argument by telling Geralt he was all he needed anyway, then showing him by getting on his knees and enthusiastically blowing him. It was a well worn pattern, one that did not need to change.

“Geralt, you're joking.”

Geralt's face said he wasn't joking.

Problematic, but not the end of the world. Geralt was by far his favorite lover, and he happened to be ass over tits in love with him, the bastard, so as long as he had him he'd survive. He'd simply need more seeing to than Geralt usually gave him. “Fine, if you think you could keep up. I'm a man of many needs.”

Geralt said nothing, but the sigh he let out was exasperated. Jaskier knew just how to handle that. “Darling, you sound stressed, why don't let me-”

“No.”

Ah, so he was in one of those foul moods. It happened sometimes after Jaskier stumbled into the bed of the wrong person and almost got himself beaten or killed. Of course, Geralt always came to save him, though sometimes he'd be huffy about it. “Ah, so this is your means to punish me? That's cruel Geralt.”

Geralt looked over him with a sudden wicked look in his eye, one that never bode well for Jaskier. “If I were trying to punish you, I'd refuse you more than a night.”

Jaskier felt the color drain from his face. “Geralt, you wouldn't.”

Geralt said nothing and Jaskier knew that he would. How many times had Geralt lectured him about where he stuck his sausage? It seemed he was finally going to do something besides complain. It was a long time coming.

“For how long?”

Geralt shrugged. That long then.

“Geralt, you've just told me I'm not allowed to be with anyone else. What am I meant to do?”

“Abstain.” Geralt had the nerve to look amused, the smug bastard.

“That's not fair. You have to abstain too.” Jaskier said, sure this would earn him victory. Geralt might act stoic, but he loved sex as much as Jaskier, maybe more. He just preferred quality over quantity.

“Alright.”

“Alright? Alright? Geralt, you won't last a week.”

Geralt's mouth tugged up into a smile. “I give it less than a week before you crawl into the nearest warm bed you can find.”

“I wouldn't do that,” Jaskier defended and he wouldn't, he _won't,_ not if Geralt has asked him not to. Then, to defend his honor he added “I can abstain for longer than you. It'll be you begging to be let back into my bed by week's end.”

That got an actual laugh out of Geralt. Jaskier was a little offended. “Care to make a wager on it?”

“A wager?”

Jaskier nodded, plots already forming in his head. “First one to cave loses. If I win I get to ride Roach for a month.”

“And if I win?”

Jaskier thought on it. “I'll be quiet anytime you ask, for an entire month.”

Geralt smiled at him, and he never looked more like a predator. “We have a deal.”

This was going to be a piece of cake.


	2. Cheating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier plays dirty. Geralt tries to get him back, but Jaskier ends up with the upper hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than I wanted, but the writing gods were not smiling upon him. Hopefully you all still like it, even if it is short.

The first two days were easy. They spend them traveling towards the nearest village, having to stop to kill something Jaskier can't pronounce and with too many syllables to make a good song. It's blood and guts got all over Geralt and he stunk to high heaven, so it was no hardship keeping his hands off him. Once they finally make it to an inn, they discover the village is holding a local festival and there's only one room left for them.

“There's only one bed, hope that won't be a problem for ye,” the woman behind the counter said, her plump hand coming out to grab their coin before they could answer. It was clear she didn't care much whether it was a problem either way.

“It's fine,” Geralt said, or more like growled in that deep rumbley voice he gets after he's drank a few of his little concoctions.

Jaskier was more than pleased, everything was coming together. He already had a plan, all he had to do was set it in motion. After he helped Geralt get the bits of monster out of his hair. He had his limits, after all, and seducing a man with intestines hanging about his ears was a bit past them.

Geralt wouldn't know what was coming.

///

There was once a time when Jaskier washing his hair felt heavenly. He'd use all the tenderness and grace of a practiced whore, careful not to cause the slightest harm. Those days were over. Jaskier dumped another bucket of water over his hair and attacked it with a comb. The monster's insides were proving to be sticky. Geralt felt rather like he had as a child when his mother had made him sit and let her try to tame his hair.

At least Jaskier wasn't trying to seduce him, something Geralt half expected him to do in some foolhardy attempt to win this bet. Not that Geralt would budge—he planned to win and win easily. Jaskier had no impulse control, no self control. Geralt was a creature of self-control. He had went years controlling himself around Jaskier, after all, pretending not to notice the man was lusting after him. He had eventually snapped, of course, but by then Jaskier had proven himself impossible to get rid of.

It was a bit too bad though, the potions always left him restless, filled with a leftover energy he had nowhere to place. Fucking Jaskier like an animal in a rut did wonders for taking the edge off.

Eventually the assault on his hair ended, and Geralt was allowed out of the water. Jaskier's eyes swept over him with a wistful look—any other day and they'd be halfway toward falling into bed together by now. But Jaskier said nothing. In fact, he said little the rest of the evening, content to play for the crowd downstairs and come straight to bed. Nothing got Jaskier in the mood like praise for his musical talents, so Geralt was prepared to graciously accept Jaskier's surrender and magnanimously fuck him through the mattress.

Except Jaskier didn't surrender. He swept into the room, giddy with praise and strong drink and carefully put his lute away. He turned toward Geralt and pulled him down into a messy kiss, swift and just dirty enough to leave him wanting more. “Well, goodnight Geralt.”

Ah, so that was the game. Work him up and leave him wanting. Figured. Geralt could handle that fine. He spent years listening to Jaskier trying to quietly jerk off ten feet away from him in the dark, he could survive one little kiss. “Goodnight Jaskier.”

Geralt stripped down to his small clothes and crawled into bed. Jaskier stripped down beside him, down to his small clothes and then he kept going until he was fully nude. He made a show of stretching, showing off the contours of his body.

So Jaskier planned to lie naked next to him in this tiny bed all night. “That's cheating,” Geralt said, fondness trickling into his voice. He did love this ridiculous man.

“What? It's hot out tonight and I regularly sleep in the nude. I don't know what you're implying.”

“Hmm,” The little shit.

Geralt turned his back to Jaskier in bed. It was easier not to look at him. Jaskier immediately snuggled up to him, spooning him. It almost couldn't be helped—the bed was tiny, and neither of them were small men. Geralt resolutely ignored him, choosing to say nothing. If this was how Jaskier wanted to play, he'd give him no advantage. Words were Jaskier's forte, so Geralt was choosing silence.

///

Geralt woke in the morning to Jaskier draped over his back, cock pressed to his ass. Jaskier was rutting against him just a little in his sleep. If not for this bet, Geralt might have let Jaskier slid inside him and fuck him, slow and lazy. Or he might have turned over and fucked Jaskier awake. Both were enticing ideas. Usually it was him fucking Jaskier, if only because riding Roach was somewhat uncomfortable after riding Jaskier. And Jaskier seemed to prefer it that way, and Geralt was happy to oblige him.

He took Jaskier in hand, working him until he was hard and leaking, muttering in his sleep. The pink tip of his cock glistened with precome and Geralt felt a fleeting urge to lick it off. But he didn't, he just stroked Jaskier gently enough to arouse, but not enough to complete. Then he stopped, waited. It took a few moments, but Jaskier woke up and immediately swore. “Fuck, now whose cheating?”

Geralt expected Jaskier to ask him to finish him off and for this whole thing to be over with. Instead Jaskier gave him a challenging look and wrapped a hand around himself, stroking and moaning like a whore. His back arched and one hand came down to fist in the sheets while he worked himself over, fast and hard, little sounds spilling from his lips.

Geralt felt himself grow hard in his small clothes. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Jaskier. His throat went dry and his body hot as he watched Jaskier take himself to completion, spilling over his hand. Jaskier wiped his hand on the bed sheets and sunk back down into the mattress, boneless and sated with a sigh. “Well, I feel better.”

He swung his legs round off the bed and leaned over to brush his mouth over Geralts. It was too brief to be anything near satisfactory. “I'm getting breakfast now...unless you need something from me?”

“No,” Geralt said gruffly. The triumphant smile on Jaskier's face didn't falter, and Geralt could guess he knew the exact state he was in under the blankets.

“Well, if you change your mind you know where to find me.”

Geralt waited for Jaskier to leave before falling back unto the mattress, feeling utterly defeated. “Fuck.”

This was going to be harder than he thought.


	3. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt caves and accepts his defeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't turn out quite the way I wanted it to, but I figured it was time to finish this story up. Thanks to everyone for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.

It had been three weeks and Geralt was going crazy.

Ordinarily, this wouldn't be a problem. He'd been alive a long time. He's went months on end without sex before. But Jaskier wasn't making it easy. He took to pleasuring himself often—never in front of Geralt, but always within earshot. And he constantly smelt of arousal. Geralt could feel his eyes on him, the way they would linger on his arms or his ass.

It was the only sign that Jaskier was bothered. Well, that and the near daily pleasuring himself. Geralt was sure Jaskier hadn't snuck off for this much alone time since he was a teenager. He still flirted, though he never went past that. He wore his doublet open, but that was nothing new. He was simply existing and driving Geralt mad.

He snapped after a relatively easy hunt. There had been the chance for danger, so Geralt had Jaskier stay behind. Jaskier typically didn't mind doing so, as long as Geralt gave him details later. Still, it had his blood racing in his veins, his heart pounding. The monster had been an easier kill than expected and he was full of restless energy.

He returned to the room, fully expecting Jaskier to accost him with questions. However, what he saw was something far more tempting. Jaskier was sitting fully nude in the overstuffed chair near the bed, still dripping with water from the bath. He had one knee up and was using it as a makeshift desk, jotting something down. A bit of lyrics or musical notes, most like. This happened sometimes, he'd be caught up in inspiration and stop whatever he was doing to write it down.

Jaskier didn't even acknowledge Geralt enter until Geralt growled his name, resolve breaking. And oh, how Geralt wanted to blame Jaskier for tempting him, but truly the man wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary. But still, he was naked and wet and biting his lip in concentration and looked delectable.

Jaskier didn't even glance up, just held up a finger. Geralt wanted to snatch the paper from his hands and ravish him there. He knew from experience that it wouldn't end how he wanted—Jaskier was a bard first and foremost and he was dedicated to his craft. A long moment passed and Jaskier finished scribbling something down, turning aside to lie the paper on the bed. Geralt moved toward him like a starving man to a buffet.

He was stopped by one long leg reaching out and holding him back. Because he could not go without touching, Geralt let a hand wrap around an ankle, rubbing his thumb over it. Jaskier looked up at his with a heated stare, “Do you surrender? Do I win?”

“Yes,” Geralt snarled, yanking Jaskier forward to the edge of the chair and kissing him frantically. Jaskier moaned against his mouth and wrapped his fingers in his hair, tugging just a little rough, the way Geralt liked it.

Geralt only stopped kissing Jaskier when Jaskier pulled away to breathe. Geralt sank to his knees before Jaskier and kissed up one thigh and down another. He dove between Jaskier's legs, ignoring his cock and kissing behind it, towards his hole. He pulled Jaskier over the edge of the chair and put his mouth on him, eating him wet and sloppy. Jaskier clenched his fists in the arms of the chair and moaned, crying out Geralts name.

Geralt ate him out with desperation, with a unusual ferocity. He'd been too long without Jaskier's taste. He wanted to devour him, every part. Oil, he needed oil. He moved away from Jaskier, leaving him panting and squirming in the chair. He was back an instant later, oil coating his fingers. Usually, he'd take time to be gentle, to be thorough, but he was too eager, too wanting for that tonight. He plunged two fingers into Jaskier, spreading him open, quick and hard. Jaskier writhed in the chair, his nails leaving marks in the arm rests.

“Bed, now” Geralt growled. Jaskier wordlessly obeyed, falling onto his back and splaying himself out. Because he knew Jaskier would say something if he didn't, Geralt carefully moved the paper over to the side table. Jaskier smiled at him beatifically and held open his arms.

Geralt couldn't stop touching him, every bit of skin he saw he ran his fingers over. He'd never wanted someone so badly in his life. Sinking into him was divine, he was hot and so tight, and he immediately wrapped his legs around Geralt. Ankles crossed at Geralt's lower back, Jaskier nudged him to move and Geralt could only give in. He set a rough pace, slamming into Jaskier hard enough for the headboard to bang against the wall. Every thrust had little noises punched out of Jaskier, and a constant stream of dirty talk falling from his lips.

“Right there, fuck me harder, so good, Geralt, missed this so much,”

Geralt hooked a hand under one knee and lifted it higher, letting him fuck into Jaskier deeper. Jaskier wailed beneath him, fingers raking down his shoulders. They would leave marks, if Geralt had bothered to undress. All he'd done was undo his pants enough to free his cock, he was so impatient the rest hadn't seemed important. It didn't matter, next round he'd strip down and treat Jaskier more gently, this was just to take the edge off. He didn't plan to let Jaskier leave this bed for some time.

He put a hand on Jaskier and it barely took three pumps before he was coming. Geralt followed quickly behind him, the orgasm blinding in its pleasure. The world went dark for a moment and stars danced behind his eyes. He lost feeling in his arms and collapsed, rolling to the side to avoid squishing Jaskier.

Jaskier struggled to catch his breath and grinned over at Geralt. “Told you I would win.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier looked down at his own chest and grimaced. “You've gotten monster bits on me.”

“They'll wash off.”

Jaskier propped up on one elbow and looked down at Geralt. “You need a bath. Then it's my turn to take you. Can't have a sore bottom tomorrow if I'm to be riding Roach.”

Even though he had lost, Geralt couldn't help but feeling like this was winning after all. He had his bard back in his bed, and surely that was better and worth more than any bet. Especially when Jaskier had that look in his eye that told Geralt he planned on making him scream.

Yes, he may have lost, but as long as he had Jaskier, in the end, he won.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. Do you like it? Who do you think will cave first, Jaskier or Geralt? I'll post the next chapter soon.


End file.
